


Mon Cher

by pinkgins



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 01:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10451742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkgins/pseuds/pinkgins
Summary: Cogsworth is still thinking about how Lumière expresses his happiness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has now been translated into Russian by the lovely hahnenfeder! You can find it here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/5480083

“Ah, Cogsworth!”

On any other day, Cogsworth would have found the odd emphasis on the final syllable of his name amusing. Endearing, even. He’d never heard anyone else, even a Frenchman, pronounce his name the way Lumière did. The former candlestick insisted that he was from a very small village with an exceptional accent (‘Rare, like a fine wine, mon cher!’) but Cogsworth wasn’t sure he believed him. His culinary training, after all, could only be Parisian.

“Your forehead is more creased than the bedsheets, mon ami! Relax, it was only a kiss. We were celebrating!”

Cogsworth thought that the residents of Lumière’s village must have very strange ideas about celebration. It had been three weeks since they were returned to their human forms, and he still hadn’t found a way to talk to his friend about how his wax lips had felt against his pane of varnished wood. Apparently, he wasn’t going to.

“It was not proper,” he tried, knowing even as he let the words out that they sounded weak. As if he was looking for an objection, rather than believing it. Apparently Lumière knew that, too, because he raised one eyebrow and quirked his head in amused fashion.

“Not proper, mon cher?”

Cogsworth hated how much he didn’t hate when Lumière called him that.

“Or not good enough?” Before the butler could even begin to splutter in indignation, Lumière was speaking again, stepping forward on the end of each sentence. “Perhaps you were feeling more jubilant than that, no? Perhaps you feel that my little efforts did not express how…” He was very close now, “wonderful you feel?”

Cogsworth decided that how he actually felt was as if someone had pulled the tablecloth from beneath him, and all his gears had come loose. Was the other man right? Cogsworth’s mind rebelled at the idea, but there was a little click elsewhere in him that disagreed.

“Perhaps you feel Plumette should not have had my lips after they had become yours.” Lumière’s voice was quiet, measured. He was looking Cogsworth directly in the eye, and Cogsworth found he couldn’t quite look away. Not even to blink.

“N-No,” he managed.

Lumière shook his head. “Try again, mon cher.”

Cogsworth struggled to find another option, but it was difficult to think of any more objections with Lumière so close to him. The truth had, very unexpectedly, become the easiest choice. He took it.

“Yes.” Cogsworth’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it drew a smile from Lumière so bright that for a moment, the butler wondered if his candles were flaring. And then Lumière leaned closer, and Cogsworth felt sure that his face must be as hot as it would have been if he was close to those burning flames. Cool lips brushed his cheek, and shining eyes found his startled gaze.

“Come, amour.” Cogsworth blushed, and Lumière grinned. “We have a dinner to present.”


End file.
